Hitting Bottom
by DJ Sparkles
Summary: When you've lost all respect for yourself and are riddled with guilt... that's when you hit bottom. Oliver/OFC friendship mostly. Rated M for drug use and alcoholism. Violence later on. WIP. ON HOLD INDEFINITELY.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

**Author's Note #2:** My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes minutes. *LOL*

Part One

Mouse sifted through the garbage again, looking for anything she might be able to use. No such luck. She did, however, find a guy crashed behind the dumpster and if he didn't want to get rolled, he needed to wake up. "Hey, pal. Hey." She shook his shoulder, none too gently. "You better get up in a hurry. Trash men come through here in about half an hour, and they won't care if you're in the way. You'll get squished. Come on." She needed something she could sell but she hadn't found anything for a couple of days, and she was in a bad way. He looked like new fish, so maybe he'd help her out. "Come on, Blondie, wake up and get out of the way."

She moved back slightly as he opened one eye and looked her over blearily. "So who cares?" he shot back grumpily. He didn't want to deal with anyone until he was sober, and hopefully he'd never get that way again. He tried to push her away but he wasn't strong enough through all the booze in his system.

"Uh uh, no way." Mouse had to push past the pounding, throbbing pain in her head to grab his arm and pull it up over one of her shoulders. "I should let you get squashed like a bug, but I can't. So come on, Blondie, I'll take you somewhere you can sleep it off safe." He was much taller than her, so it was a struggle to get him to his feet, but she managed somehow. "Come on, it's just a little ways down to my flop. Cops don't check the places down here like they should so it'll be safe enough for you. Least you won't end up under the trash truck, or in the masher." Her first observation of him was right, apparently. Stoned out of his mind, probably on cheap booze, and still wanting more. She wasn't stoned, but she was sure looking to get that way as quick as possible. It was the only way to block the pounding in her head. "There's a kinda little box town down here, look after each other, sort we don't hurt each other. Keep to ourselves, but there's a safety in numbers sort of thing." She finally got him into her little cubby and dropped him on the not so clean mattress. "You're a heavy guy, Blondie," she wheezed as she leaned down, her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. "You got any cash?"

She'd assessed him on the way in. He wasn't the same as the others down here. Drunk, stinking blotto, but his clothes and his watch were worth some serious money under the grime and ratty trenchcoat he'd covered everything with. She met his gaze when he looked up and nearly flinched from the self-loathing in those brown eyes, dimmed by alcohol and drowning in remembered regret. "Hide it if you do. There's some extra clothes lying around here, and I'd change if you've got the strength. Folks down here can smell money. I don't want you getting rolled while I'm gone. And let me see that watch."

He handed it to her without comment and flopped backward onto the mattress, throwing his arm over his eyes and sighing softly. "Get me something too," he asked quietly.

Mouse looked over the watch and would have smiled if not for the pain in her head. It would be enough to keep the pain at bay for quite a while, it looked like. It wasn't a cheap knockoff of a Cartier, like she'd originally thought. It was the real deal. "Okay. Look, just stay put. I'll be back with more booze in a bit. Don't go wandering around down here until I can vouch for you. They might try to put a hurt on you otherwise."

Blondie groaned slightly as he sat up. "Stay low, got it. Anything else?" His voice was rough with all the alcohol he'd poured down his throat.

"You want booze or something stronger?" Mouse wasn't judging. She needed the morphine so badly that she couldn't be such a hypocrite. It was the only thing that muted the pain, even if only for a little while. "You tell me and I'll get it. I've been down here long enough to know who's safe to buy from." That watch was worth more than she'd ever seen at one time in her life. It would be more than enough to get Rover to cut loose the good stuff for her.

He shifted again to watch her closely and rolled his head on his neck a bit to loosen the muscles. "Don't care as long as it takes off the edge." He regarded her steadily.

She thought for a moment, looking away from those mesmerizing eyes, shoving down a tendril of something that had swirled close in her head. "If you can move on your own at all right now, I'll take you with me. That way Rover'll know you for next time." She couldn't look at him. Even with three days' stubble and dirty clothes, he was pretty attractive. Men like him didn't stay down there long. They could climb back up if they wanted to. "Rover's my connection. He's got _all_ the good stuff." Yeah, like the morphine that took the edge off of the pain that wasn't even hers, that let her sleep her life away rather than be tortured by the emotional overload, but that was fine with her. As long as she was in her flop before she nodded, she was okay. They guys all kept an eye on her since she was the usual runner for the group. Food, dope, meds if they were needed. Theft when there wasn't enough to go around. "You up for it?"

Blondie shook his head slightly and winced as the motion made him dizzy. He laid back down and threw an arm over his face again. "Not really. I'd rather be under that garbage truck." He only wanted to stay drunk enough, stoned enough, to not remember who and what he had tried to be.

"Okay." Mouse shrugged slightly. It didn't matter. "I'll be back soon. Just keep quiet and stay put, like I said. I'll make sure the guys know you're okay." Then she left him there to his quiet misery. That he was miserable was obvious, even if she could feel it pulsing from him in waves. She needed Rover to give her more of the juice, and she knew that watch would get enough for both of them.

It took all of ten minutes to reach Rover's little cubby, deeper in what the city had dubbed the Barrens. "I got some stuff for you. Need more spikes, you got any?" The morphine she needed was injection grade and she needed it badly. "Need some of the good hooch for my – my friend, too. This ought to cover everything and then some." She held out the watch and what cash she had come up with panhandling downtown. The watch alone should get her enough to block the pain for days.

Rover gave the watch a critical examination and then raised an eyebrow at her. "Where'd you get something like this?" he asked idly as he inspected it more closely. He knew the expensive brands, had to in his line of work. He took things in trade, and he had to know what they were worth on the street. "Swipe it off a body?"

"Not dead, just dead drunk," Mouse replied evenly without batting an eyelash at the implied criticism. They both knew she'd had to resort to theft on occasion to take care of her bunch. "He gave it to me to get stuff for both of us. How much will it get me?" She was trying not to let him see how desperately she needed the relief from all the pain she felt, all the time. Fear, pain, sorrow, the whole range of human emotion, and it pounded at her in never ending waves. The morphine was the only thing she'd found strong enough to block it out. "Need enough for two people for as long as possible. Spikes and some good hooch for Blondie." She'd given the man's name to Rover, he'd understand she considered him a friend. She was a little surprised, because she didn't know that much about him, but it didn't matter. They were the same, after all. Both hiding from reality in the only way they knew how.

Rover regarded her steadily for a moment, but she didn't flinch. "If I give you stuff, it'll have to last you at least three days. I can't get more until them. And no OD's, either, it's bad for business." He fingered the watch with a small smile. A Cartier this fancy would net him a _lot_ of cash.

She snorted back at him and leaned back against the wall. "Not likely, Rover. I just want the relief, just like always. And I think that's what Blondie wants, too. No big deal. I'll take what you have and you can give me credit on the rest. That thing is worth a lot." She was hoping he went for it, but he should. She just needed to get the stuff and get going. Blondie might sober up enough to leave if she didn't get back soon, and she didn't want to be responsible if he got worked over.

There was a grumble of assent and Rover handed over a small bagful of syringes and a tiny bottle of morphine, as well as a small wad of cash. "I don't have any booze, that's Mikey's thing. Go see him. And come back when you run out of that, I'll get you more." Of course he would. She was one of his best customers.

"Okay." Mouse took the bag and the money gratefully and started out. "I'll be back in a couple days, then." She knew how she sounded but she didn't care. The confusion in her head was so painful she had to have relief somehow. "Thanks, Rover."

She stopped by Mikey's on the way back, got a couple bottles of the really hard stuff, and headed back to her flop. Blondie was still where she'd left him, passed out on her bed, and she nudged him gently as she put the bottles down within reach. "Absinthe. This stuff is so illegal it ought to burn when you touch it." She wasn't judging, though. Quite the contrary. Everyone in the Barrens had a reason they had left the so-called "real" world. They looked out for each other, but for no one else. The world had turned its back on them, for whatever reasons, and they had chosen to do the same. "You got a name or is Blondie good enough? Your call. None of us will care one way or the other."

He only snorted as he worked to open one of the bottles and took a hefty swig. "That works. The old me is long gone anyway." His voice was soft and she nearly flinched back from the wave of self-loathing he gave off before he glanced up at her again. "And what do I call you?" She'd been right, it was the illegal version. He ought to be seeing little green faeries any time. There was thujone in the absinthe, which was banned in the States. It would do nicely.

"I'm Mouse." She took out the first hypo and prepped it carefully. She sat down next to him, her back against the wall, and pumped up the vein in her left arm, slipping the needle in with the ease of long practice. "You're in what we call the Barrens," she explained as the first waves of numbness began to spread and she started to feel the relief. "There aren't many rules down here. We keep to ourselves, mostly, though if you have any talents that might help someone else, they'll occasionally ask you to use them. No questions, either. Who you were doesn't mean a damn thing any more. You can start over here if you want, hang around as long as you like. It's all your choice." She felt her eyes closing in appreciation of the sweet nothingness that now flowed through her head.

He watched her as he drank, knowing he was doing himself major damage, that this was a backward slide from what he'd fought to become, and no longer caring. He was no hero. Still he stood watch over her, taking care not to drink himself blind, knowing it was likely that someone less ethical than her might come along and try to roll her while she slept.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

**Author's Note #2:** My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes minutes. *LOL*

**Part Two**

Blondie spent several days under Mouse's tutelage, learning how things worked in the Barrens. They all looked out for each other, in a way, but the rest of the world could go hang. Anyone was welcome, but only as long as they didn't steal or hurt anyone. That was tantamount to murder, in the Barrens "code", and it got the offender thrown out real fast. Those who had something were quick to offer it to someone who didn't, and those who didn't bartered rather than take a handout. It wasn't a perfect society, by any means, but it worked for what they wanted. Everyone contributed something, including him. Most of the time it was just muscle when something needed moved, or runs to the food banks, but sometimes it was only a sympathetic ear. That, and protecting Mouse. She had saved his life, even if he hadn't wanted it saved, and that meant a lot to him. He'd pay it back however he could.

Mouse had noticed, too, the careful way he related to the rest of the group. He wasn't afraid, by any means; she didn't feel any fear from him, but he was reluctant to get close. He didn't want friends. That was okay, no one minded, but she wanted to hurt whoever had put that wariness into him. And always when she woke up from a nod, he was nearby. Protecting her, unobtrusively of course. She didn't mind, but it underscored her perception that he was a good man. Most of the merry band of misfits in the Barrens were good people, too, but they'd all lost enough in their lives to leave the outer world for good. Again, though, she knew nothing concrete. No questions were asked in the Barrens, but sometimes someone would volunteer information. Except Blondie. He gave away nothing of himself.

Blondie, for his part, had worked to hide his tracks. He had a large amount of cash on hand, so he'd simply dumped his wallet and everything else with his identity on it in a convenient dumpster. The cash he kept close, preferring not to leave it in a hiding place that someone else might discover. Besides, it let him slip Mouse a little when she went on the juice runs. Kept her from having to panhandle or steal to get enough for her morphine. He didn't want her where she could get hurt, really. She was his friend, even though he hadn't wanted friendship when they met. And she was the best kind of friend. She asked nothing of him in return for her friendship. She gave it without hesitation or qualification, unconditionally, no matter what. He respected that more than anything else about her, he thought.

Mouse had decided he was settling in well, really. So well, in fact, that she had felt safe enough to let him go on some of the errands she'd been unable to handle that morning. The pain had been more intense than usual, and he'd volunteered. He'd even mentioned he had a little cash, so she just nodded her head and gave him the list.

She'd noticed that he seemed to have access to an unlimited cash flow, but she still wouldn't ask. It wasn't how things were done in the Barrens. Maybe he had a rich uncle or a trust fund or something, but it didn't matter as long as no one showed up making trouble for them. All of them had renounced the world for one reason or another, and they didn't want it finding them again.

The pain from emotional overload welled up inside her head again and she barely contained the moan of agony it provoked. She fumbled in the bag next to her and found her one remaining hypo and regarded it steadily. Emotions, never hers, they assaulted her day and night and they were getting stronger. She had to find a way to cut them off besides the morphine. It was killing her slowly and she knew it, but still she drew an extra bit into the syringe and pushed it home, praying desperately for some relief. Blondie would never know she'd increased the dose, since he wasn't back yet. Then she lay down on her mattress to enjoy the blessed numbness inside her head. At some point she fell asleep.

Oliver came back in from the last food pantry with several bags and ducked into the cubby with one especially for Mouse. She hadn't been eating and he knew it was due to the drugs, but they seemed to help whatever pain there was in her head. He'd just try to entice her with a few odds and ends. Junk food was better than nothing, and pantry food was better than junk food. Maybe she'd take some soup if nothing else. "Hey, Mouse, we scored okay today. Good stuff." His voice was growing rougher from the absinthe that continued to be provided to him but he thought that all to the better. It would further disguise him from certain people who might be listening.

She heard him come in but she didn't really care. He seemed to have appointed himself as her guardian, and that was okay, as long as he didn't try to stop her from getting what she needed. Still, she let herself slip deeper into sleep, because she _did_ feel safer since he'd started sharing her flop. It was one of many such places in the Barrens; the place was a veritable warren of different holes, tunnels, and cubicles made out of whatever had been handy at the time. It was better than a box town because there was some semblance of heat and there were lanterns placed around so people could find their way, but the best part was that it was fairly secure. And she didn't want to think too hard about why she felt safer with him around because it meant she was getting attached to him, but she _did_ feel safer and that was all there was to it. She let herself drop the rest of the way off.

Oliver frowned when she didn't react, but then he realized she must have taken another shot. He set the bag inside the makeshift doorway and knelt next to her, checking her pulse and shaking her gently. "Mouse?" She was so deeply asleep that she didn't answer and his concern deepened, but he turned and pulled out the food and the bottles of pop he'd been able to get to, putting them away neatly before trying to rouse her again. If she didn't respond this time, he'd take her to a hospital, Barrens rules be damned. She was dangerously close to overdosing on the stuff.

Mouse woke with a start and looked around before swearing softly when the inevitable pain started. Both hands went to her head. It was always worse when she woke up, but this time it was stronger than ever. Concern rose to the top of the mix and stayed there for several moments before disappearing into the maelstrom of emotion once more. "Hey, Blondie," she greeted him softly as she shifted. "Sorry. It's been bad today." She had never told him about it, and she didn't want to, but the temptation was pretty strong. "You got food?" Idly she wondered if he'd gotten any gummy worms but again, she wouldn't ask. They were a luxury not usually included in food pantries and there were better uses for the money they did have.

He gave her a worried look but held out the little bag to her. The gummies were supposed to have been a surprise but she looked so forlorn he couldn't hold them back. He just hoped she'd eat _something._ "You've been losing weight, Mouse, you need to eat," he chided gently. "Aren't there doctors that come down here or something?"

"You've _got _to be kidding," she replied as she hefted the bag. The worms brought a smile to her face, quickly lost under the weight of the emotions assaulting her. "The rest of the world has written us iff as freaks or worse. They leave us alone down here and that's how we like it." She clutched the bag of candy to herself for a moment. "Thanks, though. Just – thanks. They're my one vice, so to speak." She gave him another small, wan smile. "As for losing weight, well, that's what happens when you don't eat. Big boy like you should have figured that out." But the words were said in jest so as not to give offense.

Oliver smiled a bit as well. "Hey, we all have something that brings us pleasure, right?" He took a small sip of the absinthe and watched her closely. "So does that mean you're going to try to eat more? I don't think the others down here would like it if you faded out on them. They seem to like you."

"They'd deal. Sometimes it happens." Mouse gave a fatalistic shrug. "Like I said, the rest of the world doesn't give a rat's ass whether we live or die. Makes us all a bit – I don't know the right word but I guess you probably understand." She gave a significant glance to his current bottle. "Nobody comes down here unless they've got nowhere else to go, or nowhere to go but up. And that's their decision, nobody down here will try to force it in any direction. Makes it kinda nice."

Oliver blushed a little. "Sorry. You've just shown me a hell of a lot of kindness and I –" He coughed and took a drink to cover the fact that he'd almost told her he didn't want to lose her. "I want to repay it. You've been in a lot of pain and it doesn't seem to be getting any better." He changed the subject quickly to protect them both.

"You want to repay me?" Mouse had caught a flash of something from him, but she couldn't readily identify it out of the mix. "That's rich. Listen, down here, gratitude isn't something you can bank on. I understand it, but a lot of these people don't. We're not looking for anything from anyone." She shook her head. She could feel his consternation at the thought and tried to shove it aside, but it wasn't going. She also changed the subject. "This kind of pain, Blondie, it doesn't go away. The only thing that cuts it down to manageable levels is the morphine, and that's not working so well any more." Damn, she hadn't meant to let that slip. "It's hard to explain. It's in my head, all of it, but it isn't any less real for that. It never stops." She'd never opened herself up like this to anyone, not since it had lost her everything she had and given her the label "freak." "Listen, if you want to call yourself my friend, that's fine. Because I consider you _my_ friend. But there's nothing you can do to help me, friend or not."

Oliver sighed but nodded. "Okay, but maybe if you told me what was in there, I might be able to help you. Look around you, look at the outside world. There are a lot of strange things going on out there now, strange but manageable. Maybe we could think of something to help."

"Whatever it is, it's killing me by inches," Mouse replied steadily. She wasn't pulling punches. He wanted to know, she'd spell it out for him. "Fear, terror, sorrow, rage. I feel them all the time and it's not what I'm feeling myself. It's from other people. I can't eat because of it, I can barely sleep, unless I use the morphine. That's the only relief I get." She couldn't help it and actually felt a bit better for sharing her secret. He _was_ her friend, for good and all apparently, and even if she'd sworn off friendship he was there. "And I can't tell where it's coming from. It just slams into me, constantly, makes me wish I could die to get away from it."

Empathic? Oliver was certain she was, from the description of her pain. Now the trick would be helping her to control it. He desperately tried to remember what he'd been taught about shielding. "Is it after people touch you that it gets worse?" He'd touched her when he came in, and if he'd made things worse, he was sincerely sorry for it.

Mouse looked at him curiously when she felt regret slip over the top of the other emotions. It stayed, and it showed in his eyes as well. "Sometimes, but not always," she said softly. "It just never stops. Never." She held his eye determinedly. "And you can stop feeling sorry for whatever. You haven't done anything to hurt me." She couldn't explain how she knew, she just did. "I can't explain what it is. I just know it hurts like hell."

Oliver blinked. Definitely empathic. She was reading his emotions, and that meant the ones she felt from others, the pain she was feeling, he could help. If she'd listen. It meant he might be able to get her off the drugs and that would be a tremendous help for her. Deliberately he shut down his own emotions, burying them deep inside his own head. "Does that help you any?" His gaze never left hers.

Mouse felt the pain and confusion subside a bit and wondered at it. "A little," she said evenly. "Enough to notice, not enough to make much of a difference." She shrugged. "Can you go see Rover for me? I won't kid you, this is getting really bad again. Even what you just did, whatever it was, wasn't enough. It's building again. Like someone stuck a live wire in my skull." She needed a shot and she was suddenly sure she wouldn't be able to do it in front of him any more. She had been steadily increasing the dosage in order to get relief, and she didn't want him to know it. He might still have enough good guy left in him to try and stop her, or at least try to talk her out of it. She was sure he'd been a good guy in his before life; his actions in the Barrens spoke loudly of it. He was always willing to help out in a way most of them hadn't seen in a long time. "There's some cash in the can, I did car windows earlier while you were out. Use that, and if there's anything left over you can stop by Mike's for your juice."

Oliver shrugged. "If you're willing to listen to some weird stuff, I might be able to help you at least mute the noise in your head," he said slowly. She was hiding something from him, he could tell from the wary way she had kept close to her one remaining bottle of morphine. The level was lower than it should have been and sudden comprehension flared, though he was careful to keep his mind and his face impassive. "I can teach you to block those emotions."

Mouse gave him a shrewd glance. He knew, that much was obvious. How he'd figured it out, she didn't know, and right now she couldn't care less. The pain was increasing steadily and she wanted some relief. If he could give her even a tenth of the quiet the morphine did, she'd listen. "Weird is the story of my life, Blondie," she replied with a sardonic chuckle and then a wince. "All I know is I want it to stop. I can't take it any more, feeling what everyone else around me is feeling, I can't. So much pain and misery out there, I can't stand it. And I can't stop it, either." She'd listen. She'd listen because he was still around and seemed to give a damn. Unusual in the Barrens, where "me first" was a way of life. "So lay it on me, oh wise one."

Oliver gave a derisive snort. "I'm not wise, believe me, smart ass. Just close your eyes and concentrate on breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth." He waited until he saw her settle back on the mattress before he went on. "Try to find a quiet place in your mind."

"Relaxation techniques, huh? Nice." Mouse nonetheless complied, but after a few moments, put a hand on her head again. "Right now, there isn't a quiet place in my mind," she said apologetically. "There's too much noise, and it really hurts." She wanted to cry but she wouldn't. Not in front of him, not in front of anyone. "It hurts!" she suddenly screamed as the pain became different, more focused. It was true pain now, pain causing despair and anger. It was a solid feed, not a mixture, and she cried out again as she realized that one person, only one, was feeling that despair and pain. "Someone… someone nearby, Blondie, someone's hurt and scared. Scared and losing hope. It's strong, it's too strong, I can't block it out no matter what I do, it's overwhelming everything else!" She looked over to him, her aqua eyes brimming with the tears she refused to shed. "We have to find him. He's so afraid…"

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

**Author's Note #2:** My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March 2010. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes minutes. *LOL*

**Part Three**

Oliver nodded but put out a hand to her. "Easy. Focus on me, okay?" If she could find a focal point maybe she could cut the input enough to stop the pain at least. And once they had found the source, he could teach her a little about shielding. What he remembered, anyway.

"Nice, Blondie, really nice," she murmured as she fought down the pure panic the boy was broadcasting. She found and focused on her companion's steady acceptance of her, marveling at it and trying not to think too hard about what it might mean. "But I can't shut this out, not completely. He's so scared, I have to find him, okay? He's hurt, and he's scared, and he thinks he's going to die. I have to find him, I have to stop that despair, okay? I have to. It'll kill _me_ if I don't." She knew she wasn't making much sense but she had never felt anything so strong from just one person. "Please, help me find him. Help me before it's too late." She knew she was reacting to the terror reaching her and also that if she could focus on it without it overwhelming her, she might be able to save the boy. That it _was_ a boy she didn't question; there was a masculine feel to the emotion, even if it was young. How she could tell, she was clueless, but she _knew._ "Please." 

Oliver ached at her request, but finally nodded as he registered the desperation in her expression. He was going to act the hero again, and it was going to end badly. But she had begged him and he wouldn't turn down his only friend. "Can you feel where he is?" he asked softly as he saw her attention turn inward once more. "Maybe we can get close enough to at least call for help." He rubbed his hand over his face as he moved over to get a few things that might help them. He wasn't about to go anywhere without something to defend them with if necessary.

"I knew you were a good guy," Mouse murmured as she focused more tightly on the boy. Then she rounded on him suddenly as she picked up a sudden burst of sorrow, regret, and reluctance. "If you don't want anyone to see you, we can work that out," she said softly as she placed a gentle hand on his arm and felt the emotions strengthen before fading as he pulled them back to himself. "I don't know who or what you're hiding from, and I won't ask. But I will respect it. When we find this boy, you do a fade while I call for help, okay?" She was already focusing on the other again, half her mind on him, half on Blondie. She didn't know why she was so determined to stay on his good side, except that he was her friend, the first one in ages, and she didn't want him in trouble because of her. "Let's go. He's somewhere south of us, further into the Barrens. And he's fading fast."

Oliver took her hand gently. "Just get us in the right direction and we'll get him out," he said firmly. "And once we do, I might be able to teach you more about how to block this stuff and get you some quiet you don't need a needle for." He gave her a small smile as they headed out of the cubby and southward.

Mouse was grateful for that friendly hand as they headed deeper into the Barrens. If the part they came from was semi-safe, then the rest certainly wasn't. Some of the gangs had taken up residence in the southernmost part, and they had been known to kill trespassers. She wasn't at all certain she wanted to do this, but there wasn't much choice. If she didn't, that boy would die, and it would be on her conscience for the rest of her life. "It's pretty dangerous down here," she explained as she indicated the informal border and stepped over. The change was apparent; graffiti, vandalism, and even outright arson had littered the landscape and she felt a thrill of apprehension all her own. "That way now," she said as she pointed eastward. "It's getting stronger. We're close to him now." 

Oliver pulled out a cloth to cover his nose from the smell. He handed her one as well, knowing it would serve a dual purpose; both to filter the smell of death coming to them in waves and to conceal their identities to the worst element in the place.

Mouse held her breath until she got the mask in place and gave a sigh of relief. The stench was horrible. There had to be at least one body near, but the one they were seeking wasn't dead yet, so she kept moving. "We're close, very close," she murmured as she moved forward, touching walls, tracing that elusive touch of terror and pain downward until she was so close to it, it was so strong, she felt she could reach out and touch it. "Here, somewhere." She started down the steps into an abandoned tenement, a dank and nasty little hole. "I wish I had a flashlight. Is anyone here?" she called softly. "Don't be afraid. We're here to help."

Oliver glanced around from behind her, but could see very little. "Damn it, where's Clark when I could use his eyes," he muttered as he moved forward. "Let me see if I can get in there, Mouse. If we need to, you'll have to run for help. Think you can do that?"

Mouse shook her head. She wondered about the mention of "Clark" but she wouldn't ask. Not her business. "I don't think the steps will hold you. They look pretty rotten. Probably how he got hurt." Was he unconscious? He hadn't answered their calls. She stepped carefully down and still almost missed the sudden emptiness that indicated a missing riser. "Yep. Almost took a header m'self. Okay, here's the game plan. I'll help him up to you and we can get out of here, _then_ figure out how badly he's hurt. Maybe he can get himself home and no one will want to talk to us." She could always hope. If anyone came looking, she'd spend a couple of nights in jail, tops. Mostly because she wasn't about to tell anyone about the man with her if she was asked. He didn't exist. Her bunch protected their own, and he was one of them. They'd give up eventually and have to let her out. She wasn't wanted for anything so they could only hold her for twenty four hours before they had to charger her or release her. Finally she was able to make her way to the small child in the corner. "Easy, okay?" she said softly as she reached a hand out to him. "We're here to help you. Broke your leg, huh? And nobody knows where you are? Listen, if you lean on me, do you think you can get to the bottom of the stairs? My friend will help lift you out of here and you can go home."

The boy whimpered and shook his head. "Hurts too bad," he whispered as both hands closed around his knee. He looked up at her with something like awe in his eyes. "How did you find me?"

She shook her head at him. "Doesn't matter. What's your name, sweetheart?" That was the ticket. Keep him talking, keep him focused on something other than the pain, while she got a good look at it and decided what to do.

Oliver felt the hair on his neck stand up and got as close to the broken step as he dared. "Mouse. We need to get him out of here quick. Someone's coming." He could almost feel people coming closer.

"He can 't move fast enough," she hissed back as she made a conscious decision. "His leg's broken. Stay quiet, maybe they won't hear." It was a possibility, although slim. There were walls between them and the outside, but she, too, had heard the furtive sounds of approach. And the emotions flooding her head now were ugly, brutal reminders that people could take pleasure in hurting each other. "And I know how to fight. I had to learn to survive down here. We can protect him." Quickly she laid her fingertips onto the boy's leg. "This might hurt a little, sweetie, but it'll fix your leg so you can run." She hoped. But when Ratty Larry had come to her with a badly infected cut, it had gone away when she touched it. It had to have been something she did, and she was trying to duplicate it.

She was gratified to note the way energy seemed to flow from her fingers to the bone, straightening it and knitting it together once more. "Okay," she said softly when she was finished. "You should be able to walk now. Let's get out of here, okay? My friend will lift you up the steps and then I want you to run home as fast as you can."

She suited actions to words and lifted him into Blondie's waiting arms, then heaved herself upward as well, but would have fallen back had her friend not been waiting for her. There was no strength in her arms. She felt like a wet noodle when she finally collapsed to the decking at the top of the rotting stairway. It was the same feeling she'd had when she had healed Ratty Larry, so she knew she had done the right thing, but she was so, so tired...

Vaguely she registered that the boy had taken her words to heart and run off, and she tried again to get to her feet or at least sit up, but her body wasn't having it. She was too tired. But the kid was safe, that was the important part. "I'll be ready to leave in just a minute," she said softly to her companion. "Just let me catch my breath."

Oliver watched over her, a heavy board held in one hand in case he needed to defend them. She had done something down there, something he couldn't fathom, that had left her weak and nearly helpless. Hadn't she said the boy's leg was broken? Yet he'd scurried quickly away with not even a trace of a limp when he'd gotten topside. She must have been mistaken. Whatever. Mouse was down and needed protection and something or someone was coming.

The sound of running feet reached him and he hefted the board into a ready stance, but he didn't need to use it. One head stuck in and hissed that they should get out while they could and withdrew quickly. Then a sound came that chilled him to his bones.

It was the hunting call of a big cat. He didn't know which one, but he knew it scared him and it must have the gangs in an uproar if they were running too. "Mouse. Mouse, we have to go _now." _He held one hand down for her to grasp.

She took it quickly and let him help her up, clinging a bit when her legs still didn't want to move. She forced it anyway; she could rest later, when they were safe. His concern was hitting her like a runaway freight and it had to be something bad, because he had been consciously holding his emotions from her all this time. But it was the fear that rolled off him in waves that got her moving. "Let's go. I heard that, and I don't want to meet it down here. It sounds hungry."

Mouse let him help her along, but it didn't seem like they were going to make it. The call came again, much closer this time, and then just – stopped. It was silenced mid-cry and Mouse felt Blondie's apprehension first ramp up and then drain back to a much more tolerable level. "Something stopped it," she gasped as she tried to keep up with him. She caught a flash of satisfaction and then nothing more than his current concern. The relief was so great that she couldn't help but stop and savor it for a moment.

Oliver slowed and then moved back to where she'd just sat down on the ground. "It's still not safe here, Mouse," he said gently as he leaned down to take her hand. "Up you come. You can rest when we get back to the hole."

"You don't understand," she said as she looked up at him, her face full of wonder. "It doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything. I can't feel anything but you. It's... it's quiet."

Oliver gave her a smile but made certain to keep his emotions under a tight leash. No point in making it worse or bringing it back too quickly. If she was getting some relief, it was past time. "Then we'll celebrate it when we're back safe," he said gently. "Whether they usually come down here or not, the police could still show up. That kid was awfully young and they pull out all the stops for little ones." Still, this needed investigating, too. It wouldn't just stop. Unless she'd unlocked an automatic blocker in herself, and that was just too convenient. Or maybe not. He was too used to being paranoid.

Mouse stood up, still a little shaky, though her strength seemed to have returned as well and she was able to move much more easily. "You're right," she said simply. "We're not safe down here."

They made the rest of the walk in near silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

**Author's Note #2:** My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March 2010. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes minutes. *LOL*

**Part Four**

Clark Kent sat at his desk and poked at his computer, trying to keep from literally tearing his hair out.

He had been searching for weeks. Oliver Queen had disappeared, seemingly without a trace, and Clark was fairly desperate to find him. Oliver had been on a downward slide for some time, and it was possible that he'd done something to harm himself. Clark didn't want to think so, but it was a possibility that couldn't be ignored.

Neither Lois or Chloe had turned up so much as a hint of his whereabouts, either, and that was pretty troubling in itself. Oliver didn't have the computer knowledge necessary to hide his tracks from Chloe; no one did. And hiding from Lois when she wanted to find you was pretty pointless. She was a bulldog and never let go once she got her teeth in something. The fact that _no one_ had found any traces, well, it was disturbing.

He answered his phone absently when it rang and was a little surprised to hear Chloe. "Tell me you found him."

"Unfortunately, Clark, wishing doesn't make this any easier," Chloe responded as she kept scanning the data flashing across her screens. "I've got no sign of our runaway playboy, but I _did_ find something else interesting. Seems a seven year old boy got lost last night and wandered into the Barrens. Happens all the time, right, and they're never seen again. Only _this_ kid, he walked out under his own power and he's babbling about some woman who fixed his broken leg so he could go home."

Clark closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "I was hoping it was something about Oliver, Chloe, that's all," he said finally. "I need to talk to this boy. Whoever healed him might need help, if she did it in the Barrens. Those gangs down there don't like losing prey easily."

"No, they don't." Chloe was still sifting data, her eyes taking on a silvery sheen as the speed increased. "Something else for the Wall of Weird. Witnesses report hearing a big cat screaming down there about the same time the kid got out. Nobody's talking about anything else, though. Barrens residents don't talk much to outsiders." Her voice took on a softer tone as she relented a bit. "We'll find him, Clark. He can't hide forever."

"I hope not." Clark was gathering his things. "Listen, tell me where to find this kid so I can talk to him. Then I'll get back to trying to find Oliver." He got the information from her and headed out, hoping to be gone before Lois caught up to him. He'd do this quicker and with much less fuss without her along. She was so Blur-obsessed that she'd probably find some way to pin it on him.

It was a fairly quick zip from the Planet to the home of one Michael Aarons. It was late enough in the day that he should be home from school, if he had gone at all, and Clark went to the door to knock politely. If the parents would let him speak to the boy, he might be able to track this mystery woman and see if she needed help.

He was admitted into the home easily and waited at the kitchen table while Mrs. Aarons went to fetch Mike. "He'll be down in a moment, Mr. Kent," she said simply as she came back and went to the counter. "Would you like some coffee? I'll be giving him his snack when he comes down, and he doesn't like to eat in front of people."

Clark accepted the drink without further question and passed a few moments in pleasant conversation before Mike came down. And when he saw the boy, he understood why she was so protective of him.

Pale, wan, and clearly underweight. The boy didn't seem the type to have run away in the first place. Nonetheless Clark smiled and introduced himself. "Mind telling me what happened last night, Mike?" he asked easily.

Mike looked to his mother, who nodded her head, and then sat down to the table and grabbed his sandwich. Between bites, he explained. "I'm home schooled because I'm too delicate. I can't stand sunlight, cuz it hurts, even with sunblock. I'm allergic to just about everything, but in here's okay because we've got all sorts of hospital type filters, Mum says." He shrugged a bit and took another bite, then maneuvered the food to the side of his mouth and kept talking. "I just wanted to see what was out there in the world, is all, and then I fell down in the bad place. I broke my leg and couldn't climb up. I thought I was gonna die, okay?" Remembered fear flashed over his face and he put down his food, suddenly not hungry. "It hurt really bad. Then this lady drops outta nowhere, right? She touched me. That's all. She said she was gonna help me and she touched me and – and it felt weird because it kinda burned but then it didn't and I could walk again and I wasn't scared. I wasn't scared at all. I just did what she said and let her friend lift me up and ran home. I don't ever want to go back there. It was a scary place. There were mean guys all over, I was running from some of them when I fell."

"This woman, Mike, can you describe her to me?" Clark knew it was a long shot but he'd need to find her soon. She was obviously more than human, if she could heal a broken leg with just a touch. Of course, he didn't know that the leg _had _been broken, but Mike seemed certain it had been.

"Sure." The boy sounded confident, so Clark paid special attention. "She was little, but she was still a grownup, right? Bigger'n me, but not a lot. Her hair was light colored, maybe blonde, I think. Skinny, like me, real skinny. Couldn't see much else, it was really dark."

"You said she had a friend with her?" Clark was digging, but he had little hope that it had been Oliver. He knew the dangers down there and avoided the Barrens like the rest of the world did. He'd have been a tempting mark to them, with the wealth and power he had.

"Yeah. Quiet guy. Didn't say much, but his voice was awful when he did. Scratchy. Couldn't see his face, really. Just a ratty trenchcoat and a mask over his face. You know, like the cowboys wear." Mike looked over to his mother. "Do I really have to take all the pills now, Mum?" he pleaded. "I'm tired of taking them, it's all I ever do."

"Take them anyway, please," Mrs. Aarons replied as she handed him a cup and a small amount of medicine. "Then you can go play for a while."

"Thanks for talking to me, Mike," Clark said politely as he held his hand out for the boy to shake. "You've helped a lot." He caught the look from Mrs. Aarons and stayed seated. She obviously wanted a word with him out of the boy's hearing.

"And thank you for being so kind to him," she said as she sat down opposite him with her own coffee. "He doesn't see many people because of his condition and it makes him a little nervous when strangers visit. You handled him well, thank you."

"He's a great kid," Clark replied noncommittally. "You're treating him for what condition? I've never seen someone so pale." He was truly concerned for the kid, but that wasn't at the heart of the question. It might explain more about why he'd decided to run away. It sounded like something serious, too, serious enough to keep him out of the outside world permanently.

"The doctors haven't really identified it yet," she replied with a sad smile. "The medicine he takes keep him alive, but only as long as he takes them religiously. If he misses a dose, he gets _very_ ill and has trouble breathing." She took a deep breath. "They say that whatever it is, it's attacking _all_ of his systems at once. The medicine slows the process, but it doesn't stop it. It's one reason I'm so concerned about this little... adventure seems such a tame word." She gave a wan smile. "He's always wanted to be like other children, to be able to play outside, and I guess it just got too much for him last night."

Clark cradled his coffee cup in his hands as he listened to her. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, but it eluded every attempt to analyze it, so he pushed it aside. "He seems well adjusted, really." He gave her a winning smile. "I've got everything I need, thank you. I'll let you know if we're going to run the story." He stood up and offered her his hand. "You've been very helpful." He was itching with the need to find this girl in the Barrens, but he needed to talk to Chloe first. She might be able to find something about this mystery illness.

Yes, Watchtower would be his first stop.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

**Author's Note #2:** My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March 2010. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes minutes. *LOL*

**PART 5**

"Mouse, come on. It couldn't have just _stopped._" Oliver was a bit frustrated but he'd never show it to her, at least not overtly. He was still trying to shield his emotions out of deference to her ability; but at least she seemed to have slowed down on the morphine. That was a priceless advance, in his mind. "You've been down here for months, swilling morphine by the bucketful trying to get relief. You told me that. So why would it just stop?"

"I don't know, but it's wonderful," Mouse replied evenly as she got up from her perch to pace. "I've felt those things almost my entire life. Whatever anyone was feeling, close or not, never what _I_ felt. It hurt. And now it's gone. I can – I can feel what you're feeling, if I try hard. But I have to be trying _awfully_ hard."

Okay, so the ability wasn't gone. Oliver relaxed slightly and took another pull at the bottle. "I've been shielding," he explained patiently. "I didn't want to make you any worse, once I realized what was happening to you." Another long pull. Now she'd ask him how he knew about gifts like hers, and he'd have to tell her. He wouldn't lie to her. She'd earned the truth from him with her steady, unconditional acceptance.

"Oh." One word with a wealth of feeling behind it. Mouse smiled slightly. "Must be why I could pick up on your nightmares last night. You were miserable while you were sleeping." She wanted to help, but she wouldn't ask. That just wasn't the way things were done in the Barrens. "Thanks for thinking of me, anyway. I'm not used to it." She gave him another tiny smile and moved to check the corkboard by the front of the little cubicle. Sometimes the other inhabitants would leave messages for her if they needed something.

Oliver raised an eyebrow in her direction but said nothing. She wasn't going to ask him any questions, and that just confused the hell out of him. She wasn't even going to ask about the dreams, and that – he wanted to talk about them, but if he did, he'd end up leaving the Barrens. He wouldn't be welcome here if they knew what he really was. _Who _he was. Oliver Queen had no business down here; but Blondie was more than welcome. It made his head spin.

Mouse frowned slightly and held out one of the notes to him. "Ratty Larry says he needs help moving some stuff in his hole," she said slowly as she let him read it. "But he doesn't have anything that big, really. Nothing I couldn't move, if I had to. So why does he want us both to go?" Suspicion had reared its ugly head and she cursed it. These people were _her_ people, as much so as if they were a completely different race from normal. They had come here to escape, and bonded over the concept. So why should she distrust one of them? It made no sense.

Oliver shook his head. "You said you healed him, once. Maybe it's meant to be a surprise or something." Yeah, a big surprise. He wasn't as trusting as Mouse, that was for sure. Something didn't seem right about the note. "Let's just go find out." He was gathering his few makeshift weapons as he spoke.

Mouse nodded and led the way when he was ready. He still wasn't completely familiar with the warren of tunnels that comprised the Barrens, and she didn't want him lost. That could only end badly, as far as she was concerned. They rounded the curve into Larry's hole and stopped in shock.

Ratty Larry wasn't the kind of guy to have female friends, and Mouse knew it. Nonetheless, there was a woman on his bed. Mouse raised her eyes to regard the other man steadily, suddenly glad she had Blondie behind her. "What's going on, Ratty?" she demanded, though she kept her voice soft. "You couldn't tell me the truth about her? You had to lie to get me to come here?" She was already kneeling beside the bed, assessing the woman's condition.

Oliver moved a bit closer to Mouse, silently lending support and if necessary, protection. It wasn't like Larry to lie, and this situation reeked of setup. He just didn't know why it would be one; as far as he knew, he was the only one who knew about Mouse's healing talent. So how could Larry have known about it to summon her to help this girl?

"I didn't think you'd come if I told you it was for an outsider," Larry replied quickly as he hunkered down next to Mouse. "I found her near the border place. Can't wake her up. Brought her here to see if you'd help her like you helped me."

Mouse didn't hesitate. Once he'd spoken the word _outsider,_ his motives were clear to her. The Barrens ran on a general distrust of outsiders, and it was only Blondie's condition of despair and drunkenness had swayed her into helping him. She placed one hand on the woman's head and the other on her wrist. A now-familiar energy built up in her fingertips and flowed from her to the girl on the bed, but nothing more happened. There was no awakening, no knitting of tissue that she could detect, and the girl didn't wake.

A freight train of emotion slammed into her head and she screeched as she tumbled backward, breaking the contact. The onslaught lessened somewhat, but it remained, and she mourned the loss of the peace she'd been feeling. Instinctively she reached out and found Blondie's hand there, silently offering support. She clung to it like a lifeline.

Oliver pulled her in tightly, one hand clutched in hers, the other finding her forehead and soothing the hair back a bit. He held his own emotions in check, trying to project calm toward Mouse, trying desperately to stop what he knew was happening to her. He didn't want her back on the morphine. "Easy, Mouse, easy," he crooned softly. "Focus. Focus on me. Push it back and focus. It'll help." Larry had known about the healing, apparently, which pushed his paranoia down into a manageable level and helped him to focus on helping her. "It's okay, Mouse."

Larry continued to sit by the woman, one hand holding hers. He felt wretched; Mouse was his friend and he didn't like that he'd caused her pain.

Mouse slowly roused from her pain-filled stupor and raised her eyes to Blondie's. "I'm – I'm okay," she said softly as she pushed back slightly. She wasn't, really. She was a long way from okay, and she knew there were lines of pain radiating from around her eyes. "But I can't help her. I don't know what's wrong with her. There's something – something really wrong, but I can't identify it. And I can't fix it."

Oliver scanned her face carefully and nodded slowly. "Let's see what else we can find out," he said slowly. He was no doctor but he'd had enough experience taking pulses and checking for concussions to at least rule those out. He lifted one of the woman's eyelids and then let it back down with a stifled hiss of consternation.

"What is it?" Mouse was right there beside him, watching. Yes, he was a good man, and suddenly that thought frightened her. He would insist on taking their patient to a hospital, and while it could be done, it would be difficult to do without giving themselves away. On the other hand – she knew it would be necessary. Decency demanded it. "Blondie? What'd you see?"

"Cat's eyes." Suddenly their escapade the night before began to make sense to him. If she had been the cat voice, then she had saved their lives. But what had happened to her? "She needs a doctor."

Mouse nodded. "Larry, help us. We'll drop her off at Metropolis General. Nobody has to know where she came from." She couldn't put Blondie in that position. He had money, she knew that; he never lacked for cash. Someone out there would be looking for him. But she wouldn't responsible for him getting found. That wasn't her call to make.

Larry rose, put on his shoes, then gathered the unconscious girl into his arms. "Okay. You stay close, nobody'll see us," he said softly.

"Wait." Oliver felt his self loathing rise up again and ruthlessly squashed it. "I know someone who'll come here, and he won't ask any questions." Emil. But he'd have to do it carefully; he didn't want _anyone_ else knowing where he was. He was no hero. He'd proved that pretty conclusively. Still, he had to help this woman. "Mouse, where's the nearest pay phone?"

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

**Author's Note #2:** My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March 2010. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes a few minutes. *LOL*

Part Six

Oliver waited on the line for only a moment. The discussion was short, concise, and quite hushed. And once the receiver was back on the hook, he hurried back to Larry's hole to talk to Mouse.

Not much had changed in the few minutes he'd been gone. Mouse still huddled miserably next to their unconscious visitor and she looked like hell to his eyes. Lines of strain showed clearly on her face but she wasn't giving in to the pain, either. For a moment Oliver envied her that determination. Larry still stood behind her, watching over both women silently, one hand on her shoulder as though for support. Oliver wondered what Mouse was feeling from that contact.

He shook himself mentally and went to them. "Emil will be in the alley behind Kazinsky's in half an hour. I'll bring him here and he can look at her. He's a good guy, I'll vouch for him." He knew someone would have to. Outsiders weren't welcome here unless one of the residents took responsibility for them. Mouse had done it for him; and he'd taken the step for Emil. Besides, he knew it would likely be a one time trip.

Mouse simply nodded. It was taking all she had to keep the swirling emotions from overwhelming her completely; only Larry's calming presence at her back kept them at bay. And still, she felt nothing from their guest.

Oliver touched her shoulder reassuringly and put as much comfort into the touch as he could. Then he went back up through the warren of the Barrens into the hustle of the real world.

For a moment he just stood still, secure in the knowledge that at first glance, nobody would recognize him. He'd grown a short beard, his clothes were fresh from someone's rag bag, and he knew the absinthe he had been consuming in huge quantities had roughened his voice considerably. He also knew that it would go back to normal if he stopped drinking that crap, but then he'd have to deal with the nightmares and he _so_ wasn't going there anytime soon.

But once in the alley he began to get nervous. Where was Emil? It wasn't like the man to stand anyone up.

"Excuse me." A young woman, decently dressed, had come up behind him and he had a fleeting thought that she didn't belong in a back alley behind a dive bar. "Are you here to meet Emil?"

His eyes never left her face, searching for signs of deception or danger. Finding none, he nodded slowly.

"He sent me with some equipment to take some tests on your friend," she explained patiently. "Something came up and he just can't leave. He also told me that he'll be better able to diagnose her that way and that your secret is safe with him. Oh, I'm Kelly. I help him in the lab sometimes."

Oliver simply nodded again. He didn't know this girl, and that would make keeping his secret easier. Emil would never let on that he'd talked to Oliver in a hundred years; he might not even be one hundred percent sure it had _been_ Oliver, not with the voice shift from all the hard drinking he'd been doing. He gestured for her to follow him and picked up the case she was carrying to help her out. One eyebrow raised at the weight of the thing.

"I know. There's a lot of stuff in there, but it's all miniaturized. And it won't take long to create the link to Doc's lab. We'll help your friend if we can." Kelly felt like she had to say something to make up for the silence of her escort. She was nervous; most people who went into the Barrens didn't come back out. It was a reputation that protected the inhabitants from outside interference, but she had no desire to put it to the test. She was counting on this man's integrity to get her back out once she was done with the testing.

It took only a few minutes to get back to the cubby and Mouse shook her head at him as he entered to show there was no change in their visitor's condition. He went straight to her and touched her cheek, willing some of his calm onto her. Larry moved back, breaking his connection with Mouse, letting the other man in closer but some of his resentment showed in his eyes. He'd known Mouse much longer and was a little jealous of Blondie's obvious place in her affections.

"Easy, Larry," Oliver murmured over Mouse's head. "She's my friend, that's all." She'd never be anything else because she deserved better than the broken down wreck of an ex-hero he'd become. And he had no ambition to fix himself, either. It wasn't worth it.

Kelly was busily attaching leads and sensors and Oliver had no idea what else to the girl's head and chest. Mouse was helping her, and Oliver decided it was time to settle things with Larry. He drew the man aside.

"Look," he began carefully. "Mouse is my friend, Larry, that's all. That's all she'll ever be. Trust me, she's worth a lot more than my sorry hide." Absolutely. When he tried to do the right thing, people died. No, he'd stay down here, drunk and semi-content. "I'm not trying to horn in on what you want. But let her decide, okay?" He half turned to watch the girls minister to their guest and nodded slightly as he heard Larry sigh. "Let's get this finished so we can find out what's wrong with our cat lady. Then you and Mouse should talk."

"Yeah, I guess we should." Larry let it lay, then. "Let's find out what's going on here anyway."

Mouse finished up placing little sensors where Kelly told her and stepped back. Whatever was going on between Larry and Blondie was being kept hushed; she couldn't even feel what they were feeling. Meant it was serious, with Blondie. Normally she could get at least a surface read of him. Abruptly she realized that her head was quiet again and she let down her defenses slightly. Nothing. But was it good or bad? She didn't know. Maybe having something to focus on besides the pain helped. It seemed to, anyway.

Several minutes passed in silence and Mouse watched carefully, making sure their visitor did nothing to harm the woman she'd been called to help. It didn't matter to her that they'd called in outside help. She was too used to distrusting the updwellers to stop being paranoid now.

"Okay, that should be it. Emil will send over instructions in a few minutes when he's assessed the data." Kelly's words were loud in the stillness of the room but she didn't care. She wanted to help.

"Kelly, start an IV drip, she's dehydrated among other things," Emil's voice issued from the little machine. "There are some serious anomalies in her readings. You said her eyes were slitted like a cat's?" he asked quietly. "There's some feline data coming through as well. Kelly, what are you seeing?" He wouldn't mention Oliver's name. His friend had obviously retreated from the real world and he wouldn't judge or compromise him.

"Nothing but what's on the instruments, Emil," Kelly replied as Mouse and the others looked on. "She seems baseline human from physical examination except for the eyes. No claws or fangs or anything. Just human."

Emil rattled off some tongue twisting medicine names and Kelly administered them smoothly. "Keep an eye on her. Those should help if the data is correct. She should wake up soon. Kelly can leave the sensors and I'll keep an eye from here."

Kelly rose and looked to Oliver. "You can take me back now," she said quietly. "This'll be just as good as him being right here. The meds are in the case, and they're hospital grade, so if she needs something, he can tell you. She should be okay."

Oliver nodded and gestured to Mouse. "I'll take the lady back upstairs," he said simply as he walked toward the door. "You and Larry can handle this. I'll be back in a little bit."

Mouse nodded affirmation and went to sit by the bed, Larry right behind her. They would wait for instructions and for Blondie's return before doing anything else.

TBC...


End file.
